'Draco forgot to tell me where to go. Great,' thought Harry, stepping through the window, "Drac-" Harry began but the window had already sealed itself shut.
'Shit,' Harry looked down. He was standing on a desk in a study. Instead of books the shelves were lined with bubbling, brewing and steaming test tubes of various shades, colors and potions. 'So this must be a study or… or it used top be a study but now it's… a lab?'
Slowly, Harry climbed down, making sure nothing shattered. 'Think, Harry, think. Okay, leave this room and try to find your way around. You've been in trickier situations than this. You can get out of,' he instructed himself. Carefully, he tip-toed out and intent on looking solely at the door frame, leaned against the wall.
CRASH! BANG! CRASH CRASH!
Harry had managed to push over an entire shelf of potions, causing a domino effect throughout the room. Harry didn't have time to think about this before he started running randomly in no particular direction. Instinct guided him away from the mess, without any regard for directionality. He could hear the whirring of lights above him and an alarm going off in the distance. Suits of armor leaning idly against the walls jumped to life and began to run after Harry as he ran faster and faster. Left right, up a flight, turn, turn, turn left, up a flight, right again; Harry ran for his life. He felt as if his feet were acting of their own accord. He didn't know where he was going or what would happen if he stopped.
The suits were running faster too. Harry didn't need to look behind him to know this. Their armor was clanking horribly. Harry hoped they would fall apart from disuse and age. His heart was pounding in his head and he could here the blood rushing into his throat. 'I can't run… much longer…' he thought to himself.
He was running down a hallway, two or three floors above the ground floor, where he had entered. The walls held elaborate paintings of blond haired families, sitting comfortably on plush couches, and blond men killing savage beasts in forest clearings with wands and swords. As Harry ran he began to notice portraits of blond children. They were all in their separate frames. Not one of them bothered acknowledging the scene unfolding below them. They all just sat staring, occasionally squirming slightly or scowling. All the portraits looked very familiar, but Harry couldn't quite them. Who were these people?
Harry stopped abruptly, momentarily startling the suits of armor. The very last portrait was the person from his dream. Harry stared. The suits began quietly advancing, but Harry neither noticed or cared. The first suit, clanging along as discreetly as possible, wrapped it's metal fingers around Harry's neck, and the second suit of armor grabbed his hands and twisted them behind his back roughly.
"NOOO! GET OFF!" Harry screamed ineffectually, only now remembering their existence.
He needed to get Ron.
Harry could feel the blood pulsing through his veins.
Blood running through his body…
Blood beating the back of his eyes…
Eyes burning… Glowing…
Blood burning… So bright, green light…
'Ron. Ron. Ron,' Harry thought to himself, that name beating almost as hard as his blood, a mantra rushing through his body. He couldn't lose Ron now. Not after all they had been through.
For a moment, Harry thought he had rendered himself blind, but realized he had just blown all the lights in the house. In fact, maybe he had blown out the suits of armor too. He could feel the grip of both suits loosen, and heard the sound as metal banged against the wood floors.